


Sweet Release

by lonniek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Coming Untouched, Deepthroating, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 13:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4138551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonniek/pseuds/lonniek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The best part of coming home after a fight isn't the way that everything smells a little bit like Derek, or the shower to get rid of the blood. No, the best part of coming home is sweet release.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Release

**Author's Note:**

> I saw some really nice porn gifs on [tumblr](http://demigirlisaaclahey.tumblr.com) and they were inspiring. So here, have some porn.

It was always the most insistent after battle, the thrum of need and desire that poured into Stiles’ body. He held the wound in his arm closed and trudged out of the forest panting. Scott and Isaac followed behind him, blood-stained but healing quickly as they dragged the remains of the gorgon behind them, each with one clawed hand digging into her ankles. Blood seeped down their palms, the same color as the water he inevitably washed down the drain at night. Derek followed a little ways off, his own claws tangled in the pile of dead snakes from the gorgon’s head. Part of her spine swayed as it protruded awkwardly from the gaping hole in her neck. The blood splatter sounded like it could have been raining. Stiles just walked, refusing to look back. Just because the stench of blood assailed every one of his senses didn’t mean he wanted to subject himself to any more of it than was absolutely necessary.

On the outskirts of the preserve, Kira had dug a shallow grave that was already half-filled with twigs and other kindling. Derek made it to the clearing first and slammed the head into the hole, breaking branches until it settled. Scott and Isaac dumped the body next, in a much more orderly fashion. There wasn’t the same rage that Derek carried, but Stiles knew the rage was for him, and as he watched Kira light the fire in the grave, he couldn’t help but smile. The gorgon’s claws had come too close to the most important thing left in his life, and to retaliate, Derek had pulled her head off with a primal howl that made Stiles see spots in his vision.

When it was over, everyone said quiet good nights. Scott and Isaac turned to walk home together, Kira got back into her car and crunched leaves and grass to start her trek home, and Stiles walked back to his jeep, finally allowing himself to feel his blood dribbling down his fingers from the gash in his arm. When he got to the jeep, he looked at the wound and pulled his first aid kit from under the seat. After all the time they’d been doing this, Stiles had become nearly professional at dressing his wounds. He made quick work of the bandaging, and when the tension was right, he sighed and relaxed against the cool metal. Derek broke the silence as he pulled open the passenger side door.

“Come home with me.” When Derek told him that, it was never a command. It was always a question, whether or not his voice rose to indicate it. It meant that Derek felt it, too, the rush of another kill, the thrum of another disaster averted. Stiles swallowed and hefted himself up into the jeep, started the car, and drove. The ride home was silent, but electric all the same. They didn’t need to speak to each other to feel the connection between them. Derek’s breath had finally evened out from the hoarse, ragged thing it had been in the heat of the battle, but it was still heavy, laden with endorphins trying to taper off into something productive. Stiles knew part of the way Derek’s breathing bordered on erratic was because of the arousal pouring off him in waves. He wanted to show Derek just what it did to him, when he came to Stiles’ rescue at the last minute, right before his life could flash before his eyes. Stiles closed them every time, waiting for the inevitable reel of his mother’s face, his father’s warm smile, Scott’s hugs. But each time, he opened his eyes to Derek’s face, inches from his, telling him that he was okay.

Stiles parked and was out of the jeep as he pulled the key from the ignition. He slammed the door a little harder than he meant to, but the more he sat, the more time he had to realize how uncomfortable the blood that was coagulating in his socks was. A dull ache rose in Stiles’ back as the pair walked up to the elevator. But this, too, was a part of the process. Derek slid his hand across Stiles’ shoulders and squeezed while the elevator whisked them upward. Stiles rolled his shoulders and sighed, relaxing a little under the touch, just enough to pull him back from the edge of hysteria at the fact that there was gorgon’s blood drying between his toes.

“Take a shower,” Derek told him when they were inside, going into the kitchen to wash his hands. He whipped off his shirt as he went, and Stiles took a moment to watch the muscles in his back ripple with the motion. He dunked his head under the spray of cold water, urging Stiles back into motion. He turned his back on Derek and walked toward the bathroom. Derek kept it on just this side of sterile. Everything was white or cream-colored, from the towels to the soaps and shampoos there to use. It almost reminded Stiles of a hospital, but the faint scents of rose and mint that always lingered in the bathroom made it warmer, like home. With a smile, Stiles closed the bathroom door, pulled off his clothes, and turned on the water.

The shower was always the second best thing about getting home. He soaked underneath it, knowing he would have to rewrap his arm once he got out, but unwilling to move from the hot water that pelted his shoulders and rolled down his back. Exhausted and running on adrenaline, the water was always just enough to bring Stiles back to reality, to remind him of how close to death he’d really come. He braced himself against the shower wall as he shivered, reliving the memory of Derek’s hand on his cheek, telling him he was safe. And every time, the combination of the shower and the memory of Derek’s voice would make his blood sing in his veins to celebrate another victory. He rinsed the soap quickly, making sure that all of the water ran clear again before putting his hands on a white towel to dry off.

Out of the shower, Stiles made quick work of undressing and rewrapping his arm, flexing to make sure that it wouldn’t require stitches before stowing the first aid kit back under the bathroom sink. Derek started keeping one the night Stiles’ left leg had nearly been severed by a coven of angry vampires. It was the little things, Stiles realized, that pointed out that Derek cared. He was still quiet and withdrawn, and when he was in a mood, he bordered on mean, but Stiles knew. He could feel in his chest the energy between them. After shoving his clothes, shoes and all, into the dirty clothes hamper in the corner of the bathroom, Stiles hung up the towel and walked naked into the bedroom.

Derek was already there, with his back to the door. He stared out into the darkness of the window, like he was trying to figure out what would be the next thing to come from it. Stiles followed the curve of Derek’s back with his eyes, lingering on the juncture between Derek’s ass and his legs, the spot where he liked to spend his time. He shifted when he heard Stiles come into the room and turned around. “You could have died,” Derek breathed into the silence around them.

“You saved me.”

“I’ll always save you.”

“Kiss me.” Stiles closed the space between them and Derek’s hands shot up lightning fast to clutch him around the waist, holding tight and steadying himself, settling into Stiles’ presence before leaning in to kiss him. The kiss was rough like they needed it to be: full of the promises they weren’t really ready to make out loud and punctuated with heated grunts and sounds of growing desperation. Stiles drove his fingers into Derek’s hair and tugged him closer with one hand and yanked at the hair with the other. Derek growled and thrust his hips forward, rubbing half-hard cocks together.

They kissed like the next fight would be the last one, like the next time they saw each other might actually be the last. When Stiles whimpered against Derek’s mouth as Derek nipped his lower lip, they finally stepped, trying to move closer to the bed. Stiles’ ankle got tangled in Derek’s and they were falling. Derek twisted his shoulder and cushioned the blow as they landed on the bed, Stiles sprawled on top of Derek, one leg tucked between Derek’s and his hands still insistent in his hair. Derek grunted and rubbed his cock along Stiles’ thigh.

“Fuck,” Stiles hissed, rutting against Derek’s hipbone. The sharp angles of his body fit against Stiles’ perfectly, and for a moment, they rolled together like that, kissing becoming less about the kissing and more about their lips moving sloppy against each other while they panted and whined into each other’s mouths.

“I want you to fuck my mouth.” Stiles made a strangled sound of appreciation and renewed urgency at Derek’s request. Derek only ever asked when he needed something, when he thought he wouldn’t get it. Stiles pulled away, placating Derek’s pout with peppered kisses before pulling away to take his cock in his hand.

“Get up on your hands and knees,” Stiles instructed, jerking off in slow, deliberate motions. “I want to come down your throat.” Derek swallowed and licked his lips, darting in to kiss Stiles one more time before he rolled onto his hands and knees, coming within eye level of Stiles’ cock. The fire punched them in their bellies. Derek looked at Stiles’ dick like it was a gift, and the way his mouth hung open just a little bit and his tongue pushed out of his mouth like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to speak or to lick it drove Stiles crazy. Then, Derek whimpered and Stiles took his jaw firm in his hand, guiding the head of his cock past Derek’s lips.

Derek lived for this moment, the moment where his mouth was filled, where he could feel Stiles, hot and warm and soft and hard in his mouth. Derek’s tongue loved the ridges just underneath the head of Stiles’ cock, how licking just there made Stiles gasp and his cock jerk in his mouth so that Derek could taste drip after drip of pre-come. Derek loved the way that Stiles tasted. There was the musk that was unmistakably Stiles: something that was a cross between cinnamon and oak, but it was the scent of him mixed with Derek, smelling faintly of his body wash and shampoo and laundry detergent that made Derek wild. And when Stiles pulled his jaw so that Derek had no choice but to open up his mouth and take him in, and Derek’s nose pressed against Stiles’ pubic bone, he could smell everything.

Above him, Stiles snapped his hips quickly, panting and moaning that Derek’s mouth felt so good. His hand left Derek’s jaw to thread back into his hair, and just like that Derek had no control of his own head. His legs quivered at the sensation of Stiles using him like this. He breathed erratically and intermittently, gasping for breath when he could, but not daring to pull away. He felt the spit running down the sides of his mouth, heard the slick sound of Stiles’ cock against it. Derek swallowed and moaned Stiles’ name as best he could, and Stiles doubled the speed of his thrusts. It never lasted long right after a fight. They were both hopped up on adrenaline and need and the pull of each other’s heat.

“Soon, Der, fuck,” Stiles warned. Derek swallowed again, and Stiles’ thighs shook. Derek knew the signs well, and opened his mouth a little bit wider, letting Stiles push back into his throat. His eyes watered and his lungs burned. Derek ignored it all, ignored everything that wasn’t the way that Stiles pulled Derek’s head closer, forcing his lips flush against the base of his cock. Stiles shuddered, made a half-aborted thrust with his hips, and then he was coming, shooting hard down Derek’s throat with his name on his tongue. Derek swallowed, tried to catch everything, but as come mixed with spit and Stiles released his grip on his hair, Derek felt dribbles running down the side of his mouth. Neither of them moved for a long moment. Stiles listened to Derek gasp for breath while he whimpered, and Derek searched for words.

When he found them, they were cut off as Stiles kissed him, licking into Derek’s mouth to taste himself. He pushed Derek backward until he was on his haunches, the kiss unrelenting.

“Stiles,” Derek whined, touching his own cock, achingly swollen and leaking from the tip. Stiles took a deep breath.

“I’ll take care of you. Just…drop onto your elbows for me.” Derek thought through his instructions, and when he realized what Stiles wanted, he nearly dove into position, spreading his legs just wide enough for Stiles to fit between them. There were few things that Derek preferred to Stiles’ cock inside of him, filling him and reminding him that while he might be the protector in the world, inside of the bedroom, he belonged to Stiles. On that list was Stiles’ tongue. He ached for the way that Stiles could take him apart with a few well-placed licks and the eagerness that he seemed to bring to everything that he did. The thought alone of Stiles tongue on him, inside of him, made him push his hips backward, wordlessly begging.

Stiles watched him with a smile, settling in between Derek’s legs and getting comfortable. He trailed his hands up and down the backs of his thighs, feeling the strong muscles twitch under the light touch. Derek whined in front of him, and Stiles leaned forward to nip the spot where the bottom of Derek’s ass met his thigh. Derek growled. It was a sound that made Stiles lose his breath, and he bit the other side to match before spreading Derek open with his palms and licking around the tight hole. There, Derek was all white hot heat and nerve endings. From the moment that Stiles’ tongue touched him, Derek was a mess of tiny sounds and whimpers, pushing back as he tried to demand more than just teasing kitten licks. Stiles obliged, licking flat stripes and watching Derek’s legs quiver while his toes curled and uncurled. Stiles had no doubt that his hands were curled into fists in the sheets, but Stiles wanted more. He circled the rim of Derek’s opening with the tip of his tongue before pushing, just a little bit.

The responding choked off sob made Stiles push a little more, and Derek moaned and pressed his face into the sheets. His hips rocked of their own accord as Stiles licked into him, until all that Derek could feel was Stiles. All Derek wanted to feel was Stiles. He gasped for breath, spit the sheet out of his mouth only to inhale it again a moment later, and turned his head to the side to take deep, gasping breaths punctuated with needy whimpers and deep, throaty moans. Derek’s cock bobbed, untouched, as he dripped onto the bedspread below. Stiles pulled his tongue away to press soft kisses against his hole for a moment, and then he was pressing back inside, his tongue hot and insistent and too much and not enough, and it was all that Derek could ever ask for.

“Stiles,” Derek choked out, and then he had to stop so that he could pant as Stiles fucked into him with his tongue. “St…I—“ Derek tensed, his breath quickened in his chest, and he closed his eyes as his hips fucked the air. Even the friction of nothing, combined with the way that Stiles’ tongue was everywhere was enough, and Derek was coming in long, white arcs, dick untouched. “Fuck, fuck Stiles, fuck.”

This, Stiles decided with his tongue pressed inside of Derek’s ass while the other man threw his head back and mumbled curses and praises while his entire body tensed up around him in orgasm, this was the best part of being home.


End file.
